Snapshots and Thundersnow
by Aqua Lion
Summary: Admitting Voldemort is back is the easy part. Percy wants revenge, Theo wants a new career path, and Colin wants pictures.
1. Realization

**Snapshots and Thundersnow**  
Prologue: Realization

_A/N- probably three very strange characters to be writing about, especially together, but hey, it works. I hope. Prologue during CoS, everything else post-OotP. Elementalists are mine (well, this particular Potter-ish take on them is), but if I owned the rest of it, this wouldn't be fanfiction now would it? _

* * *

It was hard to gauge the mood in the Slytherin common room. Theodore Nott didn't bother trying. He sat immersed in _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 2_, pretending he wasn't even listening to the conversation ringing through the dungeon.

Malfoy, the self-absorbed prat, was going on about how 'Saint Potter' had once again saved his precious Muggleborns (Malfoy used a bit more crude language), but sooner or later they'd all get what was coming to them. This was the opinion of quite a lot of the Slytherins really, and Theo knew better than to ask _what_ exactly Potter and the Muggleborns were asking for.

He knew how children of Death Eaters were supposed to think, he _was_ one.

While one could, on this basis, have said an air of disappointment filled the common room, Theo knew better than that, too. Nobody wanted Hogwarts shut down. Malfoy's hated Saint Potter had kept the school open and as far as Theo was concerned, that was the end of the matter. A few other Slytherins seemed to share that opinion. They were the ones who kept their mouths shut, but the lack of outrage was noticeable. Yet even from Malfoy's gang, their relief in the school's remaining open was palpable.

Theo understood the problem, and wasn't sure whether he met it with sympathy or disgust. They were so dead-set on hating Harry Potter that they couldn't admit he had done something, _anything_ good. Yet what had happened in the dungeons was good...

Whatever _had_ happened in the dungeons.

The stories were wild. Theo had dismissed some of the more outlandish tellings—one version of the story said Potter had defeated the basilisk by stabbing an enchanted diary with a sword.

Enchanted diary? It was hard not to laugh at that one.

Of _course_ there had been a basilisk, though. It was planted there by Salazar Slytherin, for Merlin's sake! What were they expecting, a griffin? And he could certainly believe Potter had stabbed that with a sword, though where he would have gotten a sword, who knew...

He realized he'd been on the same page for fifteen minutes. Nobody had noticed of course—now it was Pansy Parkinson railing about how Granger and all the other Muggleborns (she, too, had stooped to vulgarity) had been cured from their Petrification, and why had they bothered reviving those pitiful excuses for wizards?

Now that was immature, unrealistic, and in Theo's mind rather stupid. Anyone with a marginally developed sense of reality could see why they had bothered. Hogwarts would get a rather bad reputation if it allowed students to be Petrified and left uncured just because certain people didn't _like_ them.

No, it was all just more posturing. The other Slytherins were always doing that. He pitied them... and not for the first time, wished he'd taken the Sorting Hat's advice and gone to Ravenclaw. Son of a Death Eater or not, he wasn't so sure he belonged here.

* * *

Percy Weasley lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling. His parents had explained everything, once Dumbledore told them, but all of it was still so... so...

He closed his eyes. "Why?" he snarled to the room in general. There was no answer of course. Nobody else was in the dorms right now, the Gryffindors were all partying. Parties... at a time like this... "Why didn't I see it!"

She'd been acting so strange... had he not pressed her enough? Was it wrong to try to give her a bit of privacy? If he'd questioned just a bit further, fought her insistence that she was fine just a bit more, would this have happened?

What _had_ happened, exactly? In the end? Some people had been Petrified, but they were cured now. Ginny was fine... physically. Lockhart had lost his mind, as if there'd ever been much to lose. Harry and Ron were the heroes of the school again.

It all seemed so very... minor. In theory. What of the reality? _Penny_ had been petrified. He shivered, feeling guilty that he wasn't thinking more about her, yet... she was fine now! But poor Ginny... unhurt, yet... one could only imagine what _she_ had to be feeling.

If only he could imagine.

If only.

Why hadn't he seen...

A somewhat more disturbing thought entered Percy's mind. Why hadn't she _told_ him? Not wanting to admit to being possessed by Lord V—erm—He Who Must Not Be Named's old diary was understandable, and yet... had he done something wrong, to lose her trust? Growing up she'd always come to him for help... always depended on her big brother...

The only one who depended on him...

No, she was growing up. She could take care of herself. And in the end, what had he done for her? He'd locked himself in his room while Ron and Harry went to rescue her from the Chamber.

He let a tear slide down his cheek, then flicked his wand and froze it before brushing it away. The success of the spell didn't even register, though usually he would have been proud. All he could see right now was that Ginny had others to watch out for her...

She didn't need Perfect Percy anymore.

* * *

Colin Creevey woke up.

It was an odd sensation. His eyes were open. Yet he _woke up_. This was especially strange since, well, he hadn't gone to sleep. One moment he'd been sneaking down the corridor—heard an odd noise, raised his camera to get a picture, seen a great pair of eyes through the lens—there was a stretch of time where it was all black, that could've been seconds or days or years as far as he knew—and then he woke up somewhere completely different.

The hospital wing, he determined, as his thoughts cleared a bit and he recognized Madam Pomfrey's face hovering above him. "Uhh..."

"How are you feeling, Mr. Creevey?"

He giggled slightly, as usual, at being called 'Mr.' "I'm fine," he offered, then sat up and went very lightheaded. "...Not fine?"

The nurse smiled, but her voice was stern. "You lie back down and rest a bit, you've only just been cured! Don't tax yourself!" She bustled away and Colin noticed, with some alarm, a curly-haired Ravenclaw girl in the next bed over. She was in what looked like a very uncomfortable position... and she was _completely_ stiff.

Madam Pomfrey took a piece of cloth, poured some sort of potion on it, and pressed it against the girl's mouth. After what seemed like a very long time, she removed the cloth and poured a bit more of the potion down the girl's throat.

For the first time since waking up, he noted the foul aftertaste in his own mouth, and wondered if it was the same potion. Had he been like that, stiff and lifeless, clutching his camera—

His camera!

He would later learn the camera was quite destroyed by the... thing that had Petrified him. The basilisk, McGonagall would name it, leaving Colin to wonder just what a basilisk was.

The camera, she would continue, had saved his life. If he'd met the basilisk's stare directly, he would have died. Instantly. He shivered involuntarily. Coming so close to death... and not even realizing it... Colin was afraid.

Why should he be afraid now? It was over! Harry Potter had saved him!

He couldn't always depend on Harry Potter.

For some reason, that insight made him feel quite satisfied.

Colin walked out of the hospital wing, his wand in one hand and the broken camera in the other. He would never let that happen again, never allow himself to nearly die without even knowing it...

He _would_ be a great wizard. As great as Harry Potter.


	2. The Shock Mage

Snapshots and Thundersnow  
Chapter 1: The Shock Mage

* * *

"_Well, maybe this one. Hemlock and phoenix feather, fifteen and a half inches, quite flexible... good for... hmm? Very interesting... if it chooses you... very interesting indeed..."

* * *

_Theo sat alone on the train, as usual, brooding, which was not so usual. Well, that depended on one's definition of 'brooding' didn't it? He was always sitting there staring out the window and looking unapproachable, so other people might think he was brooding, only now he was actually in a bad mood, so he actually was brooding... 

He kicked the semantic debate out of his head. His mind was wandering. _That_ was normal too, and annoying. It wasn't helping his current situation in the least. So he kept his attention on the countryside rushing by the window, trying to avoid thinking of—

"Hey Nott."

Damn. "Malfoy?" He tried to sound vaguely interested, which was difficult. He hated being called Nott, and he hated Malfoy's attitude in general. Acting like he owned the world just because he was a Malfoy. Yet, as the simpering twit proved year after year, he couldn't do anything without his pet goons...

Who, incidentally, were flanking him now as Malfoy stood at the entrance to the car. "Get your wand out, Potter's just gone to the toilet," he began.

"I imagine that even being raised by Muggles, he can flush a toilet without our enlightened guidance."

This earned Theo a scowl, which pleased him more than he let on, but the insult to Muggles earned him back whatever favor he'd lost. "When he comes back we're going to have _words_ with him about what he did to our fathers."

"Ah. You've created talking wands, then."

Malfoy's face twisted into a very ugly expression—Crabbe and Goyle always looked ugly. "Or just sit here! We'll do it ourselves."

"Do that." Theo turned back to the window before the others had even left the car. It was kind of sad, really. What did Malfoy think he was going to do? Potter had already survived the Dark Lord... repeatedly. Was he even going to notice a few dimwitted fifth-years attacking him?

He considered the possibilities for a moment, then rose and trailed his fellow Slytherins.

He caught up just in time to see an interesting mix of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws coming to Potter's defense. When it was over, the three who'd attempted the ambush were wriggling helplessly on the floor and looking rather... oozy.

Theo rolled his eyes and went back to his seat. They'd been asking for that.

He also told himself that he hadn't joined in because he'd known they were asking for it. For all his tough-guy act, Malfoy was only a coward... an average wizard at best... and a disgrace to those loyal to the Dark Lord.

Theo, like Malfoy, would soon be expected to pledge his life and wand to Lord Voldemort. He had no doubt he'd make a much better Death Eater than his classmate. No, his doubts rested elsewhere.

Namely, he wasn't so certain he wanted to be a Death Eater at all. He was already fully contemptuous of his fellow Junior Death Eater Slytherins, why did he want to spend time with them? And didn't he have better things to do with his life than go around slaughtering defenseless Muggles, anyway? What was the _point?_

He'd been wondering that for a year now. Last summer—after Potter's disappearance in the maze, his return with Diggory's body—when Theo's father had started rushing away at odd times of the day, Disapparating without so much as a warning—Theo had known. His father had said nothing, other than expressing the belief that Potter was a lunatic and the Ministry was quite right for dismissing the stories.

Theo hadn't quite been able to figure out if his father really thought he was fooling anyone. No matter.

His father was a coward as well. Theo had picked up more Dark Arts from the Slytherin common room than from his father... the elder Nott wasn't a terribly impressive Death Eater in any case. He wasn't too impressive at much of anything.

It'd nearly gotten him killed.

It had been an _interesting_ conversation, no doubt. Professor Snape had called Theo in, the day after the battle in the Department of Mysteries when the Dark Lord's return was revealed to the world. Snape wasn't one to break things gently. Theo's father was in St. Mungo's—an elbow and Stunner to the face, a bunch of shelves landing on top of him, and hundreds of glass shards stuck all over his body—and, once treated, would be placed in Azkaban with the rest of the Death Eaters.

Theo snorted derisively thinking about it. His father wasn't as young as he used to be, what did he think he was doing trying to fight?

No, that was unfair, he had no choice. Someone else had pressed Xavier Nott into service. Yet his service had not been enough... for a moment Theo could see it vividly, himself hidden behind his father's cloak... those two frightful words, the flash of green light, the woman falling to the ground...

He ended up falling asleep on the train. Just as well—he didn't much care for the green of the scenery anymore.

* * *

"What do you think, Nabu? It's not so bad like this." 

Nabu, Theo's sooty owl, just gave a noncommittal hoot and flew back out the window (after dropping off his daily dead rat, which Theo had learned to accept with grace). So much for conversation with local wildlife. He sighed. It wasn't so bad having the run of the house, no...

But it was lonely. Even Theo liked having non-owl company once in awhile, if only to assure himself that human stupidity did still exist.

Ah well. Nothing to be done for it. He flopped onto his bed and looked at the ceiling, which was bewitched to change color according to his mood. (This was a recent idea—the Slytherin dungeon had a way of ruining all his attempts to be cheerful, so at home he had to compensate.) Right now it was a thoroughly boring shade of gray, which told him nothing he didn't already know. Theo rolled his eyes and picked up his wand. "_Accio book_," he stated carelessly, waving the wand in the general direction of his trunk.

The book that soared into his hand turned out to be one he'd forgotten all about. _A Wizard's Guide to Elementalists, _by T. R. Oscuro, pressed on him near the end of the year by one Professor Azar. Azar was the Hogwarts teacher of Elemental Magic. Theo suspected most people at Hogwarts had never heard of the class _or_ the professor.

That had been another interesting conversation. He'd somehow expected his career advice session to consist of Snape looking at his grades, saying he'd grow up a fine Death Eater, and ordering him from the office. Heh heh. No doubt _that_ was an unrealistic thought, but it had seemed... fitting.

No, Snape had listened quite impatiently to his declaration that he really wanted to be an Unspeakable, and just as impatiently outlined the requirements. And as Theo had turned to go... well, they'd shaken hands of course. Procedure and all. He'd managed to give the potions master quite a shock when they touched, which had prompted Snape to bring up something else.

"Mr. Nott, before you go, may I ask you how many other people you know who have trouble with static electricity... in the _dungeons_?"

Which had seemed a very odd thing to say, really. Theo had never thought about it before. But Snape had obviously been planning the conversation all along, pointing out that not only did Theo have apparent issues with static, but Professor Flitwick had noticed his impressive work with Shocking Charms, Professor Trelawney (Snape's nose wrinkled in disgust) mentioned he predicted storms with great accuracy, and Professor Grubbly-Plank had observed his curious interest in the North American Thunderbird.

Theo was still a little embarrassed that he hadn't guessed where this was going. "To put it bluntly, Mr. Nott, although they are somewhat rare, I'm certain you have heard of Elementalists."

He pushed away the flashback—he was getting lost in thought even more often than usual lately—and began to read.

_Elementalism is a curious branch of the magical arts, which some claim is of a more primal nature than the common spells in use today. Other experts, however, claim it is a different school entirely, as normal wizards _cannot_ learn elemental spells. While Elementalism, like magic, is a gift one must be born with, wizards born _without_ Elementalism are the norm, while Muggles born _with_ Elementalism are not known to exist. Hence, this book will treat Elementalism as a subject within standard magic._

_There are six known schools of Elementalism: fire, water, earth, lightning, wind, and ice. Wizards born with Elementalism are generally proficient with only one school, though on exceptionally rare occasions, two may be present. The last known case of this was Azzurra the Airheaded, a wind/water mage, who died in 1704 after filling her house with water while attempting to air it out._

Theo rolled his eyes and flipped a few chapters back.

_Wizards dealing in lightning, one of the most dangerous elements, are generally known as Shock Mages. It is important for the aspiring Shock Mage not to practice his craft without the proper protective clothing, as the forces of lightning are the most difficult to tame. _

_Like all Elementalists, the first task of a Shock Mage is to create a magical crystal to serve as a focus of his powers. While basic spells can be cast without this gem, it is much more difficult, and the advanced spells will be impossible..._

_

* * *

_Nabu landed in the windowsill, exceptionally pleased with himself. He'd caught an extra rat! His master would have a very good dinner tonight! He flew in, the rodent dangling from his beak by the tail. 

And he gave a hoot that was the owl equivalent of a sigh. Master was asleep, his arms over his head, a book covering his face. He did that so often. Sometimes he didn't even wait for his dinner. Nabu dropped the rat, planted his talons firmly around the book, and with great effort managed to lift it and drop it on Master's chest instead.

What did Master do while he was at school? Nabu didn't go down to the dungeons, but Master carried _so_ many books around at school, surely he fell asleep with them on his face even more often.

Nabu gave a pitying hoot and went back to his hunt. Master could eat the rat when he woke up.


	3. The Ice Mage

Snapshots and Thundersnow  
Chapter 2: The Ice Mage

* * *

"_Perhaps you should try this one. Pine and dragon heartstring, fourteen inches. Quite rigid. Go on, give it a wave... well well... suddenly a bit chilly... but with that wand... no surprise at all..."

* * *

_Well, that was _that_ then. 

Couldn't Perfect Percy do anything right?

He stalked about his flat, wishing he could stomp around and throw things but not caring to draw attention to himself. Damn. Damn, damn, damn.

He was _back_. He Who Must Not Be Named. Well, yes. Percy had known _that_ for a year now. Really. The fight hadn't been about... _him_... at all! A side issue. A catalyst, maybe, though even that was stretching his importance.

No... the issue had been Percy's so-called family. Yes, he'd seen the possibility that Fudge had given him the promotion in hopes of planting a spy in the middle of Dumbledore's circle. He'd even expected that he might have to leave to get out of said spying. But not the way it had happened... couldn't they even _pretend_ to be happy for him? Just for a few moments? Of course not.

The moment he'd announced his promotion, they'd started looking at him as if he'd already betrayed them. He might as well have walked in and declared his loyalty to the Death Eaters. Somewhere under their stares he had realized they were waiting for this, just waiting... for him to confirm their suspicions...

_That_ was what had set him off. And once he'd gotten started, good lord it was hard to stop. But stop he had. Finally. And he might've calmed down and apologized for the horrid things he'd said, too. He'd tried. He'd stood there, taking deep breaths, glanced around with a bit of shame before speaking.

The glance had completely changed the words coming out of his mouth. If only he hadn't looked... it was so clearly there. The follow-up to his realization not so many years ago, when he was still at Hogwarts, when the world still seemed to simple. It wasn't just that his family didn't need him anymore.

They hated him.

That was when he had screamed that he was leaving. And what was there to do after that? A few attempts were made to bring him back into the fold—Mum sent him his Christmas jumper as if nothing had happened—but how could he dare accept? Why torture them with his presence any further? He'd rejected everything. And to all outward appearances, he'd made himself into Fudge's perfect little sycophant. He'd locked his doubts away, knowing something was very long but not allowing himself to see it. He had only one concern.

_Make them hate me more. Make them stop trying. Let them forget me and get on with their lives._

"Dammit!"

There had only been one problem with his plan. He Who Must Not Be Named _had_ returned in full force now, and Percy had no bloody idea what he was meant to do about it. Maybe he should've found a way to drive his family further off _without_ calling Harry and Dumbledore lunatics.

He was not going to go crawling back begging forgiveness. Even if they could pretend... even though he'd know they were pretending...

"It would break me," he whispered to the empty room. He could not accept their forgiveness any more than they could give it... he'd hurt them too badly, he missed them too much.

He had one thing left. His secret.

The secret he had kept so mum wouldn't worry for him. She had so much to worry about already. She shouldn't have to worry about him too... but that had been before. Did she hate him yet? Did she hate him as the others did?

It didn't matter.

Percy stared at himself in the mirror. His hair was still Weasley red, he would never escape that. His eyes—a brown so light they appeared gold—were filled with a bitterness that had not been there a year ago. He was paler, thinner, looked so very tired...

He had his secret.

"That's all that matters," he told his reflection, wondering just what it said about his sanity that he was now talking to mirrors. His hand closed around the crystal he kept in his pocket. It was cold to the touch, despite the summer warmth that made it into the flat.

Percy was still an Ice Mage. And nobody but himself and Dumbledore—Dumbledore who knew everything, who had probably seen right through his act over the last year—knew about it.

He glanced at the mirror again, trying to decide what he could do with this realization. The light glinting off his glasses hid his eyes for a moment, and in that moment his face didn't seem like his own.

Yes. That was it! A simple disguise... but effective... enough to let him perhaps spend time with his 'family' members, unrecognized... the Order of the Phoenix? No, he didn't think so. His mother would recognize him even if no one else did. Too much family contact. He didn't want to _see_ them, he just knew he would have to fight beside them.

Whatever Percy was, he was determined to fight He Who Must Not Be Named. At least the sin of denial was a sin he could atone for.

He couldn't stay in the Ministry. The Ministry sickened him. The Ministry that made rules, rules for the betterment of all wizards and Muggles... but that same Ministry had allowed He Who Must Not Be Named to grow strong. Percy had put such faith in their authority and their rules. It had gotten him nowhere.

"They weren't just wrong," he snarled. His reflection looked slightly frightening with that awful expression on his face. No, the Ministry hadn't just been _wrong_. Wrong was forgivable. Lying, abusing power, libel, slander... these things were inexcusable. How could anyone take the Ministry seriously when it didn't follow its own rules?

His eyes held his reflection's. "I'm through with rules." Those words seemed to echo through the flat like a gunshot. "I'm going to Hogwarts, and Perfect Percy is staying here."

A wave of his wand shattered the mirror into a million fragments. He'd get it replaced before moving out. He didn't worry about any repercussions for breaking it, despite what he was about to go and do—Muggle mirrors didn't give bad luck.

* * *

He had the distinct feeling he had been the only person to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job... other than Snape, who didn't count. It wasn't a particularly hard guess to make. He'd spent the weeks since sending it in alternately studying books of curses, Dark creatures, defensive charms... and his _own_ study material, which it would be important to keep up on. 

He was absorbed in _Advanced Ice Magic_ by I. C. Winns when the owl came.

_The most powerful of elemental spells require not only the Elementalist's focus crystal, but the use of at least one rune with which to focus the spell. The Ice Mage must always remember that ice magicks are a complicated art, very different from the normal magicks, and require the utmost patience to learn._

_The relevant runes for the Ice Mage include 'kohrie', the rune of ice, and 'taizel', a nature rune commonly associated with Elementalist Power. The most common way for an Elementalist to activate the required runes as a focus is to trace them in the air with his wand, though some Elementalists prefer to carry material representations of the runes, in order to save time. _

He knew all this, but he always read the introduction before attempting a new spell. It relaxed him, got him in the proper mood for—

A tapping at his window. He looked up and saw a large, rather distinguished-looking owl clutching a bit of parchment with... Percy squinted. The Hogwarts seal. He flicked his wand towards the window and it opened enough for the owl to hop inside, drop the letter, and fly off.

Percy smiled as he read. He'd known it.

* * *

Nobody believed Saburo Winters was his _real_ name. That just proved that people were smarter than Percy sometimes gave them credit for. Not that he'd expected anyone to believe in an Ice Mage with a last name like Winters. ...Then again, the way the wizarding world worked... 

In any case, nobody pressed him over his real name either. He slipped wraithlike through the streets, in the shimmering cloak of an Ice Mage, a Reflector Charm on his glasses, and people stayed out of his way. He ate and slept and studied, and waited for fall.

Of course he'd gotten the position. It was cursed, after all. Nobody in their right _mind_ would apply. Percy, in his new thrill of reckless mutiny, was quite looking forward to it.


	4. The Shutterbug

**Snapshots and Thundersnow**  
Chapter 3: The Shutterbug

* * *

"_Quite a peculiar one, here, but it may just be right. Balsa wood and unicorn hair, ten inches, quite bendy. An excellent wand for charms... and hexes if that's your fancy. Go on, give it a wave and we'll see... ah yes, perfect!"_

* * *

Colin stared out the window, watched Dennis running about in the yard. Usually he would've been down there with him, playing, laughing, doing what kids were meant to do. He mused on the fact that he still considered himself a kid. Was that telling him something? 

His wand was on the other side of the room, stuffed at the bottom of his trunk so he wouldn't be tempted to use it. He usually had to do that. It was a lot worse this summer... he sighed and kept watching Dennis.

Dennis was lucky. Dennis was still... untainted. But Colin kept seeing those awful glowing eyes through the lens of his camera. The basilisk... and blackness...

And now the person who had _controlled_ the basilisk was on the loose. Sure, he had been last summer too. Colin had spent that summer pretending nothing was wrong, because... well, it was easy to do.

It wasn't that he'd believed all that stuff about Harry being insane, but when Lord... Lord You-Know-Who hadn't done anything, it was so simple to pretend he _wasn't_ out there. Colin wasn't sure if Dennis understood the situation, and he was quite certain their father didn't. He'd ignored it. He'd gotten away with it.

Lord You-Know-Who at the Ministry of Magic, the panic in the Daily Prophet, were making that more difficult this time around. And Colin would've actually felt better—he was part of the DA! He knew how to defend himself!—if it weren't for a certain Ministry law that said he couldn't do magic right now.

He wanted to practice the spells they'd learned. Just in case. Dennis knew a lot more defensive magic than Colin had after his second year, but the fact remained he _had_ only been in Hogwarts for two years, and he couldn't practice either. That left Colin the most powerful wizard in the Creevey household...

That meant if any Death Eaters came knocking, they were all dead.

Had he just thought that? "No way!"

"Colin, is everything all right?"

Oops. He'd yelled a little too loud, perhaps. "Everything's fine, Dad."

He glanced over at Dennis' bed, then sat back and turned his attention to the window again. Dennis himself was kicking a football around. He claimed he was going to try out for the Gryffindor Quidditch team next year. Colin had thought about... that until discovering he was afraid of heights. But he grinned. It'd be fun to see Dennis play...

Assuming he made the team.

Assuming he was alive to make the team.

Colin shook his head violently to get rid of that thought. Maybe it would be like last summer. Maybe, Lord You-Know-Who wouldn't do anything.

_I sound like a little kid_.

Colin wanted his wand. He wanted to practice. He just wanted to be a good wizard, and have fun, and take pictures... pictures.

He took his camera from the desk next to his bed, raised it to the window, and took a picture of Dennis just as he was trying to kick the football. He wound up missing, landing flat on his back. But he was laughing—always laughing. Colin grinned. Maybe he'd develop that picture in the Muggle way. After all, it just wasn't fair to make someone fall down over and over, even a photograph.

As he returned the camera to its place he caught his own reflection in the window. Still tiny, mousy-haired, and with a wide smile, but for a moment it didn't look like him. There was something too serious lurking in the eyes. Lord You-Know-Who was never far from his thoughts...

Even if he didn't come here (he probably wouldn't), he was after Harry. Colin couldn't imagine a wizarding world without Harry. He shook his head. Maybe he was growing up, but he wasn't going to get over his admiration of the Boy Who Lived any time soon. He giggled, remembering how he'd all but stalked the poor wizard his first year. (Harry probably had rather resented that, really. Colin liked to think he exercised more moderation of late.)

It was all too troublesome to dwell on for a whole summer, Colin decided finally. He was fourteen, and he wasn't going to be fourteen forever. _Enjoy it while it lasts_.

He cast one last, longing glance towards his chest with the wand inside, then darted out of his room, downstairs, and outside. "Dennis!"

"Colin!"

The football took him square in the face, but he went down laughing.

* * *

The first attack came two weeks in. The next, a week after that. Another came right after and then they stopped for awhile. The Creevey brothers read about each in the Daily Prophet. Of course, both had a healthy skepticism for anything the paper said, but it was the only source they had. 

All of the attacks were on wizards, and none on anyone Colin had ever heard of, though the paper mentioned one as being a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Bad. Very bad. But no Muggles had turned up dead or missing, none that Colin knew of anyway...

Their father didn't understand a lot of this. He did know Lord You-Know-Who was back, Colin and Dennis had both attempted to explain. (Dennis seemed to have more or less grasped the severity of the situation when the attacks started.) He was worried, but more for his sons than himself. Colin wasn't so sure this was the proper order.

After all, they would be at Hogwarts. Harry Potter and, even more importantly, _Dumbledore_ would be at Hogwarts.

One thing their father did seem to fully understand was Colin's agitated state. Not that he wasn't usually rather _hyper_, but this was different. Lacking any good idea of what to tell his son, Mr. Creevey had decided maybe a distraction was in order. Perhaps a bit of responsibility would calm him down...

Thus it was with great anticipation, and no small amount of relief at having made it through the summer, that Colin strode through the Leaky Cauldron and out into Diagon Alley. Dennis was right behind him and in a matter of moments they were both running up the street, headed for the Magical Menagerie.

Colin didn't want an owl. Sure, owls were useful and all, but... owls also spent most of their time delivering mail, or in the owlery. Colin wanted a pet that would actually be with him most of the time.

The multicolored snails were intriguing, but probably a bit of a bore once you got over the novelty... and the poison slime would be a hassle. Besides, there were some people at Hogwarts with pets other than the usual cat, rat, or toad, but a streeler was most likely pushing it. He left Dennis to gape at a Fire-Crab (the lady behind the counter warned that he was far too young to be allowed to own one) and went to look over the cats. A small gray kitten caught his eye, and he spent a rather long time deciding he wanted something with... less developed claws.

That took him to the puffskeins, which Colin found thoroughly creepy for some reason. He made good time to the other side of the store, stared at the toads long enough to resolve _not_ to get one, and moved on to the next row of shelves.

Curled up in one of the cages was a tiny rodent, fast asleep, its rather furry tail curled around its head. The plaque on the shelf declared it a dormouse. As he stared at it, the dormouse opened its eyes and stuck its nose out of the cage. Colin hesitated a moment, then scratched it below the chin.

The dormouse had obviously taken a liking to him. And while his brother would probably wonder why he hadn't gotten something more impressive, a small animal that could go everywhere with him was exactly what he'd been looking for, wasn't it?

"Dennis!" he called in a low voice, not wanting to disturb any other animals. "Go get dad! I found what I want!"

Dennis opted to come see for himself first, and the look he gave his brother was a bit on the incredulous side. "A... mouse?"

Colin grinned. "Why not?"

By the time his father got there to buy his new pet, the dormouse had a name. "I'll call you Snapshot. Just Snap, for short. Is that okay?"

He could've been imagining things, but he thought Snap nodded.

* * *

The only spot on the train was in a compartment with a shaggy-haired Slytherin. Colin guessed him to be a sixth or seventh year and was careful to ignore him. For that matter, he and Dennis were ignored right back. They spent the time discussing classes, Lord You-Know-Who (Dennis had taken to calling him Lord Thingy), and Harry Potter. 

Probably three quarters of the way through the trip, talk turned to the DA. "He'll almost have to keep it going, though, won't he?" Colin mused aloud. "That Umbridge woman didn't teach us anything! What's the new teacher meant to do, give us two years of class in one year? Harry'll keep teaching us."

"Cool!" Dennis was grinning. "I can keep working on my Patronus!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Colin noticed the Slytherin boy giving Dennis a rather odd look. Dennis had followed his gaze. Realizing he had their attention now, the boy seemed slightly uncomfortable, but then it was gone and Colin decided he'd just imagined it. "Can you really conjure a Patronus?"

Dennis went a little red, but nobody would ever accuse him of being bashful. "Well, it's just some silver smoke now, but..."

Colin sort of hoped the Slytherin would stay focused on Dennis—his own Patronus wasn't much more than a silvery wisp, either. That or it was a flobberworm. And really, it was bad enough for the Slytherins in his own year to be obnoxious, now this one came along and—

—Nodded sagely. "It's a start." He turned back to the window, and if he had any further interest in their conversation for the rest of the trip, he didn't show it.

Soon enough train pulled to a stop, and the brothers managed to get a carriage with a few other third-year Gryffindors. Colin forgot about the conversation soon enough.


	5. Back to School

**Snapshots and Thundersnow**  
Chapter 4: Back to School

* * *

"_Well, what have we here. Very bright indeed... yes, a fine mind... good bit of courage, and quite shrewd... not one to be around others, are you? Ravenclaw would suit—hmm? Slytherin? Well, if that's what you want, no doubt you're cunning enough... very well... SLYTHERIN!"_

* * *

Theo hated the trip to Hogwarts. It wasn't that he minded the train ride—though he did tend to end up sitting with some odd people. Malfoy (before first year and talking about how wonderful Slytherin was), that spacey Ravenclaw (reading the Quibbler of all things), a pair of hyperactive Gryffindors (_why_ had he _spoken_ to them!)... no, the train was the least of his problems. 

The thestrals were problems. On one hand, certainly he understood why the school used them. They were brilliantly suited for the work, as Hagrid had tried so hard to explain before Umbridge ruined that lesson. On the other... well, it seemed a lousy way to start the school year, everyone having to remember that they'd seen people _die_.

So he sat in the carriage with Blaise Zabini and a couple of fifth-years, and looked everywhere but at the winged horses.

The mood of the students as they filed into the Great Hall was rather subdued, which wasn't exactly surprising. There _was_ a war going on and all. On the other hand, Theo noticed an awful lot of pointing and whispering, much of it directed towards the Slytherins. He was at a bit of a loss to figure this out, especially when he got odd stares and Blaise didn't, until he reminded himself of his previous thought.

_There's a war going on. And I've committed the heinous crime of Being Born To Death Eater. _

Abruptly he felt nauseous. "Save me a seat," he choked out to Blaise, and sprinted for the nearest toilet. It was going to be a long year, a _very_ long year. What were they saying anyway? _Look there, all those Slytherins, their dads are in Azkaban. They'll all be Death Eaters too, you want to stay away from them..._

Not that he particularly cared if people wanted to stay away from him, but he wasn't going to be a Death Eater. _Why_ did he want to follow the same career path that had kept his father in Azkaban since last June? He'd been wondering that all summer.

Then again, who knew if his opinions on the subject were going to matter...

By the time he actually got where he was going, the nausea had faded. He splashed some water on his face, got rid of it with a quick Drying Charm, and stared at the mirror. "Snap out of it," he ordered his reflection, muddy green eyes narrowed. "You're not a Death Eater, and if anyone thinks you are, it's their problem."

He stalked back to the Great Hall, the very picture of Slytherin pride.

* * *

"And finally, as Professor Umbridge had to leave us—" there was a massive round of applause throughout the Great Hall, forcing Dumbledore to stop speaking for what seemed like several minutes, though Colin doubted it was really that long. "—may I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Winters." There was scattered applause, not nearly so much as there had been for Umbridge's departure. Professor Winters was a slender young man in a shimmering blue cloak, though between his hood and the light reflecting off his glasses, Colin couldn't make out his face.

"Winters?" Harry's friend Hermione (who Colin had ended up sitting next to, through no real effort of his own) gave a disbelieving snort as the feast appeared on the tables.

"What's wrong with that?" Ron wanted to know between bites of chicken.

"Well it can't be a real name, can it?" She said this as if it explained everything and even Colin, trying to pretend he wasn't eavesdropping, stared at her until she elaborated. "He's obviously an Ice Mage."

"D'you know _everything_?"

Hermione looked smug. "Normal wizards wouldn't wear a cloak like that unless they were visiting the North Pole. You see how it's shimmering, the charm that—"

"Okay, okay, we're impressed." Ron practically dove into his mashed potatoes and it was clear the discussion was over. Which was a shame, because Colin didn't know what an Ice Mage was.

Then again, the implication was obvious.

"Harry," he asked when it seemed like a good time, "are we still going to have the DA this year?"

Harry hesitated with a bite of pork chop halfway to his mouth, and from his expression it was clear he hadn't really thought about it. (That or he'd been enjoying a Colin-free dinner... nah.) "Well... I guess I wouldn't mind doing it," he recovered lamely. "Let's see how the new teacher is first, all right?"

"All right." Colin didn't voice his thoughts from the train, and went back to feeding Snap apple slices.

Rory Hollis, another Gryffindor fifth-year, looked over at him, probably to see why he was putting his food on his shoulder rather than in his mouth. "Colin, when did you get a _mouse_?" he snickered. "It looks just like you!"

"Are you jealous?" Colin shot back, in as innocent a tone as he could muster. Rory was nice enough, and Colin got on with him fine, but he wasn't half as funny as he thought he was. "His name's Snap, and he's a_ dor_mouse, not just a mouse." He'd gotten oddly obsessive about that for some reason.

Dennis piped up. "I'd rather look like Colin's pet than yours, Rory."

Rory and a few other fifth-years laughed, though he went slightly red and glanced protectively at his toad, Bouncer.

The rest of dinner was uneventful, and nobody else had any snide remarks about Snap.

* * *

N.E.W.T. classes always put at least two Houses together, since often only one or two students of the same House would be taking a particular class. But Percy did not find it surprising when every sixth-year Slytherin and Gryffindor filed into his classroom for their first class. It was Defense Against the Dark Arts, for Merlin's sakes, who was going to skip _that_?

The class was still reasonably small, since the whole sixth-year class was. (Not a lot of people had been having kids during the He Who Must Not Be Named era, and all.) He went through the roll quickly, and gave the class a brief nod of greeting. "Gryffindors and Slytherins, welcome to your first N.E.W.T. Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Before we begin, I understand your professor last year was... less than competent. I have to teach this class assuming you've been through a proper fifth-year curriculum, so if you have any questions because of what was _not_ covered last year, please don't hesitate to ask."

Percy was nervous. He'd cast a minor charm to alter his voice, an Obscuring Charm on his cloak, and the usual Reflector Charm on his glasses, and was confident (with good reason) that he wouldn't be recognized by the casual observer. Indeed, even most of the teachers didn't seem to realize who he was, though he wondered if they were faking it...

However, he'd not encountered any relatives since abandoning his identity. Ron's being here was making him panic. And that was ridiculous, because Ron had shown _no_ sign of recognizing him.

Nobody had raised their hands to ask any questions yet. Of course not. They didn't even know what they were _doing_ yet. Right. "Please take out your textbooks and turn to page thirty, the section on the Deflector Spell. Once everyone is finished reading that, we'll have a practical lesson."

He heard Malfoy muttering something about "first-years' stuff" and scowled. "Mr. Malfoy, if you find this beneath you, feel free to drop the class." He cast a glare around the room before remembering they couldn't tell where he was looking. "That goes for anyone who doesn't care to take this class seriously."

There were no more complaints. It took about ten minutes for the class to finish, and Percy took the opportunity to move the empty desks at the back of the room, clearing out a large area. When everyone was staring at him rather than their books, he motioned for them to join him in the back.

The textbook he'd assigned them was one of the best, but it was written in rather archaic language, and it was best to see what they'd learned anyway. "Now, just as a recap, could someone please explain the function of the Deflector Spell?" Hermione's hand shot up. Big surprise. "Miss Granger?"

"The Deflector Spell, _declinare_, seeks out the nearest spell to its caster and diverts it. The spell is most useful when you are surrounded by enemies, and not very useful when you have friends nearby, because you can't control where the spell is deflected to."

"Excellent." Several Slytherins rolled their eyes. Hermione ignored them.

Percy spent a moment going over the proper wand movements. "The spell will not function if there's nothing to deflect. So, if I could have a volunteer—" Hermione's hand shot up again. This time Percy rolled his eyes too, thankful for the Reflector Charm. "I was under the impression there are people in this class other than Miss Granger."

Nobody raised their hands. If they'd known what they were volunteering for, Percy imagined a few more Slytherins at least would have gone for it. Their loss...he demonstrated the spell against Hermione's _expelliarmus_, which ended up sending Neville Longbottom's wand across the room.

Percy paired everyone up, sat back, and watched the chaos, occasionally interrupting to give pointers. Ron still had not recognized him. He was in no hurry to change that situation.


	6. Beginning Elementalism

**Snapshots and Thundersnow**  
Chapter 5: Beginning Elementalism

* * *

"_Well well, another Weasley! A great deal of ambition, I see... intelligence, yes... a lot of bravery, and a desire to stand out from the crowd... very interesting... so what do to with you... you'd make a fine Slytherin, but... much better to put you in GRYFFINDOR!"_

* * *

Elementalism was the class Theo had really been looking forward to. Still aching a bit from Defense Against the Dark Arts (he'd not gotten his _declinare_ off quite fast enough, and Blaise's _expelliarmus_ had been a tad too strong), he ran as fast as he could to the dungeons, brushing off the questions of his fellow Slytherins as to why he was in such a hurry. 

He hadn't told them about this class. There was no need to brag about it, and now that someone was actually asking, he didn't really have time to answer. Perhaps he'd tell them later tonight, if they asked again. Unlikely. They'd probably be busy pretending they weren't ineffectual prats... Malfoy still couldn't figure out why Theo didn't want to help dream up new ways to 'get' Potter.

"_He sent your father to Azkaban!_"

As far as Theo was concerned, Harry Potter was at the bottom of the list of 'reasons why dad's in jail,' somewhere well below 'Voldemort,' 'Lucius Malfoy,' and 'old age.' It wasn't worth trying to explain that.

He admonished himself for being distracted. Then again, best to get it all out of his system before class. His first stop was the Slytherin dormitory, to grab his books, then he was sprinting off again.

The reasoning behind having Elementalism in the dungeons was simple—there was a bit less risk of having someone blow out a wall. (That had happened once, according to Professor Azar, which was why the class had been moved to the dungeons in the first place.) Theo didn't like the dungeons—he could only take so much _gloomy gray_—but he was too excited to really mind right now.

Camella Winston, a 7th-year Flame Mage, was already in the classroom. Azar was not. "The Professor's gone to get some potion ingredients from Snape," she explained as soon as he set his books down. "You're going to be making your focus crystal today, you know."

Theo nodded. "I didn't know there was a potion involved."

"Didn't you read your book?"

"No. _I'm_ not a Ravenclaw, remember."

"How true."

Theo had discussed Elementalism with Camella once or twice the year before, when he'd come to speak to Professor Azar about starting lessons this year. He could tolerate her, which was important, seeing as they were the only two in the class. She _did_ seem to have a bad habit of assuming that everyone in Hogwarts read their textbooks from cover to cover before arriving...

He sat back and watched her practice, which consisted mostly of shooting fireballs across the room into a large tank of water, until Professor Azar came in.

"Ah, Theo, excellent." The old Wind Mage placed several jars and flagons on the desk next to Theo's, went into his office, and returned with what appeared to be a cauldron made of glass.

"Should I have brought—"

"No, no, yours is metal. You can't use a cauldron that conducts electricity to make a Shock Mage's focus crystal!"

This made a lot of sense. To hide his embarrassed expression, Theo picked up his textbook (a rather tattered copy of _An Introduction to Electrical Magic_ by Nimbus Franklin, the only one the bookstore had) and turned to the chapter about the focus crystal.

_The focus crystal of the Shock Mage contains both the spirit of the individual wizard, and the intangible essence of lightning. Like wands, a wizard will get the best results with his own focus crystal. The creation of the focus crystal is the first and most important thing a Shock Mage will learn. _

_It is important to have a cauldron made of an insulating material, and _not_ a conductor. Begin by filling the cauldron with three litres of water and add a teaspoon of scarab wings... _

* * *

Percy stared at the ceiling and lost himself in thought. 

He had a break after the sixth-years, which was good. Neville had taken a wand to the face, and one of the Slytherins, Zabini, had managed to send his _partner_ slamming into the wall rather than just his partner's wand. (He'd been thoroughly embarrassed about it, too, which was more than Percy might've expected out of a Slytherin.) All in all... they'd done a sight better than Percy's class had. There'd been some hospitalizations for that one.

Of course, Percy's class had also been dealing with Gilderoy Lockhart as a teacher, and his pairing Oliver Wood and Marcus Flint hadn't helped matters at all...

He had sixth-year Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in an hour and a half. He wished the gap was shorter. Less time to think.

Ron hadn't recognized him!

This pleased him, but in an odd way he was also disappointed. Sure, he'd taken great pains _not_ to be recognized. Some very small part of him had insisted that he still had a chance—his brother would know who he was—it wasn't as bad as he thought—once a Weasley, always a Weasley. If Ron could just see through his mask, everything would be fine. But Ron _hadn't_ seen.

"You know," he commented to Hermes, who was sitting on his desk looking stately, "I could sit here and sulk for another hour and a half."

Hermes hooted.

"I agree wholeheartedly." Never mind that Percy didn't have the vaguest clue what the owl had meant. "Who, Hermes? Who am I now?"

The screech owl looked at him reproachfully. Then, no doubt by coincidence, he took to the air, fluttering his wings enough to cause _A Wizard's Guide to Elementalists_ to turn several pages back. He proceeded to fly up to the top of the bookcase, where he perched and ignored his master's bemused look.

Percy started to turn back to what he'd been reading, a historical account of the importance of Elementalists in the war against Grindelwald, but a passage on the page Hermes had turned to caught his eye.

_Ice Mages are usually born in the far north, leading some to believe that environment is a serious factor in Elementalism. Whether true or not, it is a fact that the last Ice Mage to be born as far south as Britain died in 1791._

Aha!

"That's who I am," Percy breathed, looking up at Hermes. How had that owl _done_ that? "I'm the first British Ice Mage in two centuries."

If Elementalists could be major players against Grindelwald, why not against Voldemort? (He flinched when he allowed himself to think the name.) He had to do something. He'd had a hand in starting this mess and he was _going_ to have a hand in fixing it. Then Perfect Percy Weasley could finally be put to rest, and only the Ice Mage would remain.

Speaking of the Ice Mage... he closed the book, put it away, and headed for the dungeons.

* * *

Theo felt slightly queasy. He really should've read the book before coming to class. 

_After allowing this mixture to simmer for ten minutes, it is time for the most crucial step, for the focus crystal must embody the wizard as well as the element. The Shock Mage creating the crystal must add two strands of his own hair to the potion, and once it has stopped fizzing, three drops of his blood._

He had something along the lines of two minutes left to come to terms with this new development. Drawing his own blood was just one of those things that common sense told him _not_ to do. Not that he couldn't manage. Knowing what to expect would have been nice, was all...

He yanked out the two strands of hair and dropped them into the cauldron. The mixture immediately turned from dark blue to a glittering golden color and sent up a great cloud of bubbles. These hung in the air over the cauldron, gradually turning silver and dropping back in.

Camella had turned to watch. "I guess that step's the same for any Elementalist," she observed, "though the Flame Mage's turns red, of course..." Theo gave what he hoped was an interested nod and watched the potion fizz. "You'll know it's time to add the blood when all you can see are the silver bubbles."

That didn't take nearly as long as Theo would've liked it to. _It's just a little blood. Getting pricked with a needle. You've done it a hundred times. ...Well, not really, but the time you hugged that hedgehog in the garden was much worse._ With that in mind, he picked up his needle (transfigured from a loose thread off his robes) and gave his finger a good, vicious poke. No problems, no problems.

As the third drop of blood entered the potion, two things happened. The first was that the potion turned a blinding, luminescent white, and sparks started shooting from it. The second, there was a loud and prolonged creak as the door to the classroom swung open. Theo jumped and splattered blood on his book. Sigh.

Professor Azar held up his wand and muttered something Theo didn't quite catch, and the blood disappeared. Only then did he bother looking up at the doorway. "Ah... I was wondering when you might come see me."

Theo looked up too, after confirming that he had seven minutes before the next step. He wasn't quite sure why he was surprised. "Professor Winters?"

At least the Ice Mage seemed just as surprised as Theo was. "Hello again, Mr. Nott... you've recovered from being _disarmed_ earlier I see." He nodded to Camella, then looked at Theo's potion. "Shock Mage, I assume?"

"How could you guess?" Theo snorted, an instant before remembering he was talking to a professor. The question still stood though—the sparks that had been coming from the potion were now full-fledged lightning bolts, though they had the courtesy to emerge straight up from the cauldron rather than shooting about the room.

Though he didn't say it very loudly, Theo was certain he caught a "mind your attitude" from the Defense teacher before he fell silent. Whatever he'd come in here for was, presumably, not as interesting as watching Theo make his focus crystal.

Which was irritating, as Theo really didn't care for being the center of attention.

The next-to-last step for the potion was to add a teaspoon of powdered Peruvian Vipertooth horn, which toned down the lightning coming out of the cauldron a bit. It also began changing colors—the book said it would be a dull yellow when it was finished, though right now it was an eye-hurting shade of purple.

Theo glanced at the book for the final step, and panicked. "Professor, is this a spell I should know?"

"No, in fact it's not a real spell at all. Don't worry, so long as the potion's made properly, it should work fine."

"You'll probably never use it again," Winters added knowledgeably. (Well of course, Theo mused, he must have gone through this same process.) "Its only use is to create the crystal."

Theo nodded and returned to concentrating on the potion. For the sake of conversation as the potion shifted to glowing orange, he looked up at the Defense teacher again. "How long have you been an Ice Mage?" That was just to break the ice... he flinched inwardly. Bad pun. What he was really curious about was what Elementalists _did_ after school, assuming they weren't predestined to be Death Eaters. (_I'm not going to be a Death Eater!_ shot through his head.)

"Well it's not something that you just turn into, you know." Theo gave him his best _don't-get-technical-with-me_ look and he shrugged. "I started training four years ago."

Theo nodded. His potion was dark blue again. "What did you do before you came here?"

"Erm." Winters suddenly seemed quite uncomfortable. "I worked at the Ministry, until..."

Theo could guess at until _what_, but the Ice Mage was spared from having to continue as his potion finally turned yellow. He took out his wand and touched it to the surface of the brew—a shower of white sparks shot up. _Stir four times clockwise and_...

"_Denkou_."

His potion exploded.

He was on the other side of the classroom in an instant, pressed up against the wall with his eyes nearly popping out of his sockets. It was only when Camella started laughing that he realized the explosion, impressive as it had been, was fully contained inside the cauldron.

He glared at the room in general. "That wasn't funny."

Camella obviously disagreed, and even Professor Azar had cracked a smile. Winters _wasn't_ smiling, thus saving him from gaining Theo's enmity for eternity... or at least the next five minutes.

After convincing himself the detonation was finished, Theo returned to where he'd been sitting and realized that the potion was now quite gone. Something small and faintly glowing sat in the bottom of the cauldron. Something that looked very much like a crystal...

It was white, with the faintest tinge of light purple, and as Theo stared at it he could see tiny flashes of lightning crackling within. When he picked it up, a jolt of electricity shot up his arm, though the sensation wasn't altogether unpleasant. So _this_ was a focus crystal. He looked up at Azar and was moderately surprised to see him beaming.

"Well done indeed, Theo!" He glanced at his watch. "And just in time, too... we'll begin basic spells in your next lesson, so be sure to bring your protective clothing." His smile was still quite wide. "I expect great things from you, you know."

Theo nodded and hurried out of the room._ I'm a Shock Mage now... a real Shock Mage_. He held the crystal tightly in his hand, and refused to think about Death Eaters.


	7. Tryouts and Tutoring

**Snapshots and Thundersnow**  
Chapter 6: Tryouts and Tutoring

_A/N- Well, we have HBP, which I knew would totally demolish this fic. No spoilers here, it's now officially just a very AU year 6 story. I refuse to change anything I had planned just because I was proven dead wrong... hehehe. __Meanwhile, I wish Dennis had told me beforehand thathe was going to be a major character in this story, I could've done his wand and Sorting... oh well._

* * *

"_Let's have a look... calm down, calm down! So much enthusiasm! And a great deal of curiosity, yes, and an eagerness to learn... plenty of loyalty... a great protective instinct, not afraid to speak your mind... a strong will... yes, I'm quite sure you belong in GRYFFINDOR!"_

* * *

It had taken Colin something along the lines of three lessons to decide he didn't like flying. He tried not to call it _fear_... just a preference to keep his feet planted firmly on the ground, thanks very much. Maybe it was because he was Muggleborn. Or maybe it was because he had the common sense to realize that humans weren't meant to be sitting on broomsticks fifty feet in the air... 

He wondered how many people would associate Colin Creevey with common sense, and opted to think about something else.

Dennis was exactly his opposite so far as flying was concerned—nothing seemed to thrill him more than shooting around high overhead. His skill didn't quite match his enthusiasm, but who was Colin to point that out? The brothers had talked their father into buying a broom (this had included saving up their pocket money all summer, which he imagined was more a symbolic gesture) before Dennis's second year, and while he hadn't tried out for the team then, _this_ year he was ready.

They trooped out to the Quidditch pitch a bit early Thursday night, Dennis clutching his Cleansweep 7 and Colin dragging one of the school's Shooting Stars. (He didn't like flying, but never let it be said he wasn't a good brother!) Since they quite obviously didn't have their own Quaffle, Dennis had brought his football along and they tossed that around instead, with Colin playing some combination of Keeper and Chaser. The less said of _those_ efforts, the better.

Even if he weren't determinedly biased, Colin would've said Dennis was good. Not as good as the two Chasers who'd graduated last year, but then again, they'd had a lot more experience hadn't they?

A few others had joined them on the Quidditch pitch and once the team arrived, Colin was quick to land before anyone thought _he_ might be trying out. The team right now consisted of four people—Harry, Ron, Andrew Kirke, and Katie Bell, who (from the way she was ordering everyone about) Colin guessed was the captain.

Ginny Weasley came up and greeted him.

"I thought you were already on the team?"

"I'm trying out for Chaser," she explained, "Harry's Seeker after all, and I'd rather be a Chaser anyway... I thought _you_ hated flying."

Colin nodded to Dennis, and Ginny understood.

"Weasley! In the air!" Katie yelled. "Creevey, are you—"

"_No_," Colin answered a little more forcefully than he'd meant to, and all but bolted for the stands. He thought he caught Ron laughing.

He watched the Beater tryouts with great interest. A bunch of highly competitive people trying out for a position that involved whacking heavy balls at other people to unseat them? The outcome of _that_ was obvious. It looked more like a war up there than a sport.

He hesitated. Given current events, that was a bad word choice.

Beater tryouts ended when a fourth-year took a bludger to the head and had to be taken to the hospital wing. Katie, not flustered in the least, paired up the four potential Chasers and sent them up. Ginny and Dennis were paired together, against a pair of second-years Colin didn't know. At first they just practiced passing to each other and tossing the Quaffle through the goals. Tryouts were probably decided right there—the second-years were great passers, but barely ever got the ball through the rings.

Nonetheless, Ron went up to try blocking their shots, which only made the second-years do worse. Colin got a fantastic photograph of Ginny and Ron colliding in midair (he wasn't certain it was intentional, but who knew with Quidditch), letting Dennis slam the ball through the hoop.

Tryouts were called off when it started getting dark, and Katie announced that the team would be posted in the Gryffindor common room the next day.

Dennis was uncharacteristically quiet as they walked back to Gryffindor tower. "Don't be so nervous, Dennis, you looked great up there. There's no way either of the others get in over you!"

"Yeah," Dennis grinned, "but I can't help being a _little_ nervous..."

Colin was about to say something else encouraging when a flicker of motion caught his eye. Movement in the shadows...

"Colin, what's wrong?"

He looked again. Nothing was there. "I thought I saw something moving..." Dennis looked unconvinced, things were always moving, but Colin couldn't think of anything else to say. He shrugged and changed the subject. "Come on, race you back to the tower!"

By the time they got back to the Gryffindor common room, Colin had quite forgotten about the incident.

* * *

Snap woke Colin up at four in the morning, gnawing on his ear. "OW!" He shot into a sitting position and looked around, but everyone else in the fifth-year dormitory was still sound asleep. "Snap, what'd you do that for?"

Snap chattered something and Colin, who didn't understand anything of dormouse-chatter, shrugged it off and tried to go back to sleep. No success.

"Okay, come on." He crawled out of bed and headed for the common room. At least now he'd be able to get a chair by the fire—

"So what if he's here? He's only the world's biggest prat, we'll just ignore him."

"But if he _is_ here why haven't we seen him?"

"Finally has the sense not to show his face—"

"Yeah, because Percy's always been _so_ good at not being noticed."

"But surely the Ministry wouldn't be trying to interfere again, not now?"

Colin ducked back into the dormitory, deciding this was a bad time to approach Harry and his friends.

Percy? Surely they were talking about Ron's brother, who'd never seemed like the world's biggest prat to Colin. What _was_ he doing back at Hogwarts? And for that matter, how did they know he was back if they hadn't seen him?

It didn't really matter, and it really wasn't any of his business. He resolved to forget about what he'd overheard—but lying awake in bed with a dormouse chewing his ear wasn't a great environment for getting things out of his mind.

His thoughts turned to Quidditch. The team lists couldn't possibly be posted fast enough. Dennis would make it of course, and then there'd be talk of upcoming games to distract him, and watching practices, and of course the games themselves...

"Snap, mate, does my ear really taste that good?"

To his surprise, the gnawing stopped. "Thanks."

He spent the rest of the night thinking up ways to train Snap.

* * *

The fifth-years were studying more advanced Dark creatures, today's subject being werewolves, the majority of which were supposedly working with Lord You-Know-Who. Colin paid close attention, certain it was important, but he couldn't help thinking... knowing how to repel a werewolf wouldn't do much for him if he ran into a Death Eater.

He stayed after class. Winters was a little intimidating, the way he kept his hood up and you could never see his eyes... Colin steeled himself. He had to ask. The attacks had started again, a Ravenclaw Muggle-born had just lost her parents, certainly he'd understand... hopefully...

"Professor?"

Winters had been writing something on the board, preparing for the next lesson. Now he turned to Colin and smiled. "Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just... uh... there's something I wanted to ask..." He hesitated, not quite certain how to go about explaining himself. But there was something oddly comforting and... familiar?... in Winters' smile.

Then it was all pouring out, his Muggle background, learning nothing from Umbridge, his fears all summer, knowing that if something happened he would have to protect his family, and he wasn't sure how... he trailed off. Winters was still smiling, but it was sad now. "So I was um... just wondering if there were any chance I could take extra lessons," he finished rapidly.

The room was very quiet for awhile, and Colin wondered if he'd just made a big mistake. It _wasn't_ really fair to ask a teacher to go out of his way to—

"Let's see your schedule," said Winters, his voice strangely soft.

Colin fished the slip of parchment out of his pocket, noting a few teeth marks that hadn't been there when he put it _in_ his pocket. He grinned slightly and gave Snap a pat on the head as the professor looked over his schedule. He nodded. "Right after your Thursday Herbology class, does that sound all right?"

"Great!" As if Colin were going to argue. He opened his mouth to ask something else, but Winters beat him to it.

"If your brother can come at that time he's more than welcome."

Colin thanked him profusely and hurried out of the room. "Did you hear all that, Snap?" he asked, pulling the dormouse out of his pocket. "Dennis and I are getting extra lessons, and we'll be able to defend Dad, and..."

Snap yawned.

It was odd though, he reflected as he rushed to share the good news with Dennis. Why did Professor Winters seem so familiar? And why, when he was so mysterious and creepy, had Colin been so inclined to tell him so much?

* * *

Percy stared after Colin for a long time after he was out of sight. _Poor kid._ He realized with a start that many of the Muggle-born students must be feeling the same way. If families of fully-qualified wizards could fall victim to Death Eaters, what chance did _they_ have?

It was a depressing thought.

Less depressing, but more surprising, was what Percy realized a moment later as he write the extra lessons on his own schedule. He'd shifted to prefect mode without even thinking about it. Colin had obviously been desperate to confide his fears to someone, even Perfect Percy the Prefect had never been that good, but...

He went back to his office. "Everything, Hermes... I'll teach him everything I know." The thought that this all could've been prevented would not leave Percy alone. If only the Ministry had taken Harry seriously, not let He Who Must Not Be Named get strong... maybe... "It's only one person but... it's a start, isn't it?"

Hermes just stared at him, with that 'you-humans-are-crazy' look Percy knew too well. It wasn't the first time the owl had been right, and no doubt it wouldn't be the last.


	8. Convergence

**Snapshots and Thundersnow**  
Chapter 7: Convergence

* * *

It'd taken Theo a little over a week to decide what to do with his focus crystal. Camella wore hers on a ring, but Theo had learned from an old Nott family heirloom that he hated wearing rings. (That had been an amusing argument, ending with his father admitting he wanted Theo to wear it so he wouldn't have to.) Azar's was set into the tip of his wand, probably more trouble than it was worth right now. Winters wore his on a chain around his neck, which seemed like a good idea, until Theo actually put the crystal on a chain and discovered he hated necklaces too. 

He'd wandered out of the dormitory a bit late the next day, the chain looped around his belt so the crystal hung at his side. Convenient, not at all uncomfortable, and with the added benefit of keeping the other Slytherins even further away from him, after seeing what it could do.

Malfoy, after all, had been very interested in the crystal. "Nott, what in the world is _that_?"

"Nothing."

"Yeah right, let me see—YAARGH!" Malfoy had reached down and grabbed the crystal, which turned out to be a big mistake. Theo read later that focus crystals didn't like being touched by anyone but their proper owner, hence Malfoy had gotten himself a pretty good zap.

Theo managed to apologize and get out of the common room before bursting out in laughter. Served the nosy git right.

Of course, walking around with a magical crystal hanging from one's belt was a good way to attract quite a lot of questions, most of them from people he didn't dislike as much as Malfoy. It eventually got back to the Slytherin sixth-years that Theo was a Shock Mage, and the fact that he hadn't _told_ them earned him much grief. What had they expected? He only even _tolerated_ one of them.

For his part, Blaise thought it was fantastic. "But aren't Elementalists really rare?"

"Azar says Hogwarts usually gets one a year."

"I'd count that as really rare." Blaise looked at the crystal, but showed no interest whatsoever in touching it. "Have you learned any spells yet?"

Theo resigned himself to getting no peace until he answered Blaise's questions—though a pureblood who'd grown up fully immersed in the wizarding world, his natural curiosity made him sound like a Muggle-born first year at times._ Not that there's anything wrong with Muggle-born first years, when they leave me alone._ "Just one."

"Can I see?"

Theo snorted. "I can't go firing lightning bolts around the common room, Blaise."

"I know _that_." Blaise looked mildly indignant. "I'm not stupid."

"True enough." Theo considered the situation. He'd taken to practicing his shock spells outside during his free time, where it was rare for people to notice the odd lightning flashes in the middle of the day. "Tell you what. You've got Arithmancy today when I've got Elementalism, so meet me at the front doors after class, and I'll show you."

Blaise nodded, and both dashed off to their lessons.

* * *

Colin was leaning against a tree, his eyes closed, Snap chewing on his ear again. "If Snape weren't so scary," he commented absently to Dennis, "I'd ask him if there's a bad-taste potion that would get this silly dormouse to leave my ear alone." 

"Ask Dad to send you some spoiled milk," Dennis suggested lazily.

Colin opened one eye and glanced at his brother—he was definitely half asleep. "I'm not going around with spoiled milk on my ear!"

Dennis shrugged.

Their first extra Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson had been an _experience_, to say the least. Winters had been impressed by their Impediment Jinx and figured the Stunning Spell was the logical next step, which both Creeveys agreed with wholeheartedly, having never quite gotten the hang of it before the DA was cancelled.

Of course, they had to practice the spell on each other, since Winters was the only one of the three who could perform the counterspell. Each sported a few bruises from missing the pillows they were supposed to be falling on top of, and each considered them a badge of honor. Colin was actually very proud of his stupefy spell, and while Dennis was struggling, Winters had been clearly impressed that a third-year could perform the spell at all.

"Hey Dennis."

"Hmm."

"Does Professor Winters seem... familiar to you?"

"Uh-uh. You're 'magining things."

That was certainly a possibility. Colin considered it for a bit, then turned to say something else, but Dennis was sound asleep.

He removed Snap from his shoulder. "You really need to leave my ear alone, you know."

Snap blinked at him. An instant later, with a terrified squeak, he jumped from Colin's hand, ran down his leg, and raced off through the grass.

Colin looked up to see an owl swooping towards the school. "Snap, come back, that's just the post!" he yelled, racing after his pet. The trail of waving grass was all he had to follow. "Snap!"

He sprinted into the forest long before realizing just where his dormouse had led him. The pet in question had stopped a ways in, presumably deciding that with trees around it was safe. Colin scooped him up. "Snap, you silly thing." He flinched. "We're not supposed to be in here, come on, let's—" He stopped dead. Something was watching them... he turned.

Staring at him from between two trees was a silvery beast with large blue eyes and—Colin gaped—a long, spiraling horn protruding from its forehead. He'd never seen a unicorn so close before (Professor Grubbly-Plank hadn't let the boys get too near during lessons), but there it was...

He reached for his camera, hanging around his neck as always. "Hello," he whispered nervously. "Would it be all right if I... took your picture?"

The unicorn cocked its head as though it understood him, took a step forward. Colin moved slightly closer as well.

A twig snapped beneath his foot and the unicorn bolted. _Shoot!_ Throwing caution to the wind he ran after it, intent on getting his picture, not minding that this was the Forbidden Forest and it was getting close to dark. "Hey wait! I didn't mean to frighten you!"

_Bad idea Colin, bad, bad idea._

_But it was a unicorn!_

_Still a bad idea. If you're going to protect your dad you should start by staying alive._

_I'll be fine. Harry's gone in here lots of times, he always comes out!_

_You're not Harry_.

_Yeah, but I know loads more magic than he did when he came and talked to that acro-whatsis!_

His mental argument with himself was ended by a sudden chill, one he'd only felt once before. He pulled to a dead stop. "No way..." Snap dove into his pocket and shivered as Colin took out his wand. "Where..." The chill was coming from his right.

It wasn't dark enough to render the hooded thing invisible. It was moving slowly towards him... he focused on everything he'd learned in the DA last year. _Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts. I'm going to get out of here, and protect Dad and Dennis..._ "_Expecto Patronum!_"

A silvery squiggle shot from his wand and drove the dementor back a few paces. That was it. "Uh oh."

* * *

"It's pretty basic really. The book says there's all kinds of ways to change how far it goes, how much energy there is, even how many bolts it makes, but I haven't really gotten that far." 

Blaise nodded, his expression one of total fascination. From anyone else Theo would've considered this show of interest hopelessly fake. "So let's see!"

"Right."

Theo concentrated. _Focus_. He reached down and touched the focus crystal, felt the slight shock. _Lightning. Energy._ He wanted lightning, wanted it to strike, to flash into the crystal and through his wand, to strike out into the endless sky... he thought he had it, tiny sparks were dancing within him. _Concentrate_. He was not a wizard, not a human, merely a conductor of electricity...

He pointed his wand straight up, where he wouldn't hit anything. How embarrassing would it be if he couldn't pull off the spell? No. He would. He touched the crystal again with his other hand and felt a much greater shock.

"_Fulguris!_"

Blaise's jaw dropping was his first indication that it'd worked, it took a few more moments for him to register the bolt of electricity that had just shot up into the sky. He touched the crystal again and it had returned to its normal state. "It takes awhile," he commented lightly, "to get into the proper mindset. Azar says it'll be at least a month before I can cast anything quickly."

Having never encountered an Elementalist before, unless you counted Professor Winters, Blaise was quite eager to see more and made Theo cast the Thunderbolt Spell several more times. He didn't mind, it was good practice, but...

"It's getting dark, you know."

Blaise hesitated and looked around. The sky was indeed getting darker. "It'll almost be time to eat then... we should go back in."

_My point exactly._ Theo turned to follow when a flash of light caught his eye. He blinked—just afterimages of his lightning spell—no, there it was again. "Actually... why don't you go on? Save me a seat, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Sure," the other Slytherin agreed easily. He was used to being Theo's chief seat-finder and didn't give it a second thought anymore. (Besides, it gave Theo more incentive to check his homework when he was stuck.)

Theo hardly registered his classmate's departure. Something about that silvery light was familiar, and he didn't think it was a good kind of familiar. Another flash. Where was it coming from?

The forest.

It abruptly dawned on Theo that the silver light might be... "Oh, _damn_." He turned towards the castle, ready to go find a teacher and tell them what he'd seen. Hopefully he'd be fast enough... but what if he wasn't?

Then he did something stupid. Wand at the ready, he turned back around and charged down the hill towards the forest. The rapidly dwindling light didn't concern him, the forest being off-limits did not concern him, and most of all, the fact that he might be _right_ about what he saw, and the danger that suggested, did not concern him.

He would much later reflect on the fact that it was a move worthy of a Gryffindor, and wonder if that was a good or bad sign.

He seemed to cover the distance far more quickly than should've been possible, but the silver light was becoming less frequent. Bad. He raced in the direction it had come from and soon enough heard a voice. "_Ex... ex... expecto patronum!_" A weak flare of silver.

Theo braced himself. His father had insisted he learn the Patronus Charm before his third year, but he'd never actually needed to perform it with a real dementor around. Hopefully it would be too focused on its victim to start on him... besides, the dementors wouldn't attack the son of a Death Eater...

_I'm a Shock Mage, not a Death Eater._

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Something small and silver burst out of his wand, bounding through the forest, presumably homing in on the dementor it was meant to repel. Theo caught up with the Patronus about fifteen seconds later—just in time to catch sight of a dementor gliding away.

The silver rabbit stared at him for a moment, looking very pleased with itself, before vanishing and plunging the forest into darkness.

* * *

"_Lumos_." 

Colin's wand tip lit up at the same moment as his rescuer's, blinding him momentarily. "Thanks," he offered sheepishly. "I—"

He shut up, because his voice had stopped working as he recognized the other boy's face—freckled and snub-nosed and reminding Colin a little bit of a rabbit, now that he thought about it. It was the Slytherin from the train, the one who'd asked about Dennis' Patronus! But what in the world was a Slytherin doing, running around saving people from dementors...

For his part, the stringy sixth-year looked just as surprised as Colin felt. "Come on," he said finally, gesturing for Colin to follow, "we really ought to get back up to the castle..."

"Yeah." He found his voice again. They proceeded out of the forest in silence, but silence just wasn't something Colin would stand for. "Uh... I'm Colin Creevey, who're you?"

"Theodore Nott." He smiled, though he was obviously uncomfortable. There was something odd, a Slytherin smiling that didn't seem to be leading up to something unpleasant. "Just call me Theo, if you don't mind, though..."

Colin nearly choked. A Slytherin had just asked him to use his first name. "Uh. Sure" Now that he thought about it, if his last name was Nott he'd probably try to get people not to use it too.

"What were you doing in the forest, anyway? Not that there ought to be dementors in there either..."

"I was chasing my pet." He held up Snap for Theo to see. "He saw an owl and ran off." He decided it was best not to mention the unicorn, not to a Slytherin, he could see where that would go. _Aww, the widdle Gryffindor saw a unicorn... _

He shook his head. Theo seemed a decent sort.

Dennis was waiting at the front doors. "Colin, I woke up and you were gone, and I looked everywhere, and—" He trailed off, looking at Theo. "Who's that?"

When it became clear Theo wasn't going to answer the question himself (indeed, if anything he looked more uncomfortable) Colin took over. "Theo, this is my brother Dennis. Dennis, this is Theo—he just saved me from a dementor!"

No doubt about it, Theo looked distinctly uncomfortable now. "Actually Colin," he mumbled finally, "can you... keep that quiet?"

It seemed like a strange request, but how could he refuse? "Sure." It would later occur to him that the other Slytherins probably wouldn't take too kindly to one of their own saving a Muggle-born Gryffindor. "Well anyway... thanks again Theo... I'll see you!" He and Dennis ran to the Great Hall, leaving Theo staring after them with a slight grin on his face.

_

* * *

I'll see you!_

"If you're lucky," Theo mumbled, watching the Creevey brothers disappear around a corner. But he had a strange feeling...

He looked back outside. "Gonna storm." That wasn't what was bothering him. _Did I really just go charging into the Forbidden Forest to save someone from a dementor? What am I, a Gryffindor? _Gryffindors weren't that bad, he supposed, they just had a talent for getting themselves killed heroically which he'd rather not pick up...

No, he knew what was bothering him. He was pretty sure he _would_ see Colin again.


End file.
